


what's that noise up the stairs, babe?

by artemidos



Category: The Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas, F/M, or... is it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:32:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artemidos/pseuds/artemidos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>is that christmas morning creaks?<br/>otherwise known as beth and daryl still together when christmas comes. not exactly romantic, but it hints at something. what? i don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what's that noise up the stairs, babe?

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I wrote this whole fic at midnight for my best friend... plus it's Christmas here, and I will use this as an excuse for why I didn't research anything or plan this out properly. Let me have my semi-happy babies. Okay. Cool.

Beth was about seventy per cent sure it was Christmas.

She couldn’t be absolutely sure, of course, in the world they lived in nothing seemed to be set in stone. The laws and regulations that once ruled the lives they lived were non-existent, a distant memory of an old world where civility was upheld and revered. If you wanted to feel any form of content with what you had, you had to press on, you weren’t allowed to dwell, but merely take pleasures from that world and reintroduce them, if you could. This was precisely why Beth was even thinking about Christmas in the first place, – although she had kept all thoughts about the topic to herself – it was a holiday that felt fruitless when even keeping your life was a gift, but it could be different.

There were many, many problems with the idea of Christmas in this world. First of all, finding a gift seemed next to impossible, and she was sure if she asked Daryl what he wanted, he would tell her to stay alive. Second of all, he would _immediately_ turn down any suggestion of going to find a present in the first place. It _was_ pretty ridiculous; despite the fact she had arguments up her sleeve at the ready if it came to the point where she was desperate ( _What are we living for if we can’t have good things? Christmas can be our one good thing!_ ) Third of all, it was winter, one of the two harsher seasons, and celebration was hardly on their minds when they were pressed together to conserve warmth, exchanging awkward glances or avoiding the other’s line of sight completely. Exerting themselves too much? Foolish and they both knew it.

Despite all of these issues, Beth was still pretty sure it was Christmas, call it intuition, or maybe she was just dead wrong and grasping at straws, but the day felt like Christmas when her eyes fluttered open to a grey light that’s almost... _Pretty_. So, she decided it must be Christmas. It must be.

She sat by her lonesome for a while, by the almost familiar kitchen window mostly boarded up by wood. It left enough uncovered at the top for it to bathe some of the room in that grey-white light that made her smile. The floorboards creaked eventually, announcing the arrival of the heavy footed male who co-inhabited the house and she wore a look of strange, soft happiness as he entered the room. He returned her smile with eyebrows raised and immediately looked away, and it made Beth hug her knees to her chest a little tighter.

“I think its Christmas.” She announced, after a minute or so.

“Yeah? You think so?” He looked amused, almost, but didn't meet her eyes.

They sit in silence yet again for a while, before Daryl decided he was going to hunt. Beth perked up, stating she’ll tag along, to which he returned with a non-committal grunt. She still hasn't worn him down, after all this time, but she saw the way he looked at her sometimes. She knew there was something under the carelessness he shoved to the forefront of his attitude, and he’s proved time and time again he is not nearly as hardened as he is when things are bad.

Sometimes she wants to say something about it, but part of her still worries it’s all in her head.

They hit the woods quickly, snaking through as she tried to keep pace with him. She doesn’t know what he’s tracking exactly, a deer maybe? She hasn’t been out hunting with him for while, preferring to housesit instead, which essentially meant she watched for walkers and killed them if they happened to stumble up the porch. Really, the tracks could be anything, it’s just wishful thinking.

Beth always had that one hand on her knife, and one eye on Daryl. She stepped beside him as he raised his crossbow, and turned slightly. She could now see he was wearing the most triumphant grin she’s seen on that face in so long, but it dropped as he gave her a look that she was pretty sure meant stay put and runs off. She does stay glued to that one spot, watching him disappear behind a multitude of trees that still all look the same to her.

After waiting for a few minutes, she heard her name and bolted, looking for movement in her eye-line. Again and again he called and it took her long enough to find him, her breath visible in the cold air as she battled her way past those same trees she didn’t recognise. When she did finally locate him, he was crouching in front of the dead body of the nicest looking deer she had seen since she started hunting with Daryl. She quickened her pace so she that could lean down beside him, hesitating to even reach a hand out and touch it, for fear it would dissipate and she'd wake up in a car boot. It felt strange, to be so excited over something like death, but she ignored the blood in favour of looking at the man who was bent down beside her. He looked right at her, for a moment, and she's not used to it. His voice was husky as he spoke, maybe a little bit from the cold, she thought.

“Merry Christmas, Greene.”

He barely got the words out, as Beth had pulled him into an excited hug, the type that would have knocked them over if he wasn’t steady on his feet. Her smile was a sight for sore eyes as she pulled away. Quickly, she reached for the crossbow perched beside him which his hand still rested against.

“Okay, now I gotta kill somethin’ for your present.”


End file.
